This post is coauthored by Andrew Walker and Eric Teetsel
In recent days, Mere Orthodoxy has played host to several essays on Newt Gingrich. Matthew Lee Anderson—a friend and co-laborer in the effort to engage young evangelicals with conservative ideas—and Jerry Walls have stated their unequivocal opposition to voting for him. For them, a lifetime of personal vanities, grandiose policy proposals, character flaws, and serial adultery disqualifies Newt from receiving support from evangelicals. Even worse, were evangelicals to support Gingrich, it would potentially contradict our Christian witness (especially regarding marriage), making evangelicals “opportunistic hypocrites.”

Matthew states,

“The evangelical support for Gingrich, then, erodes and undermines their moral witness on the question of marriage, making it seem nothing more than platitudes that are conveniently tossed aside for convenience and charisma.”

Jerry Walls uses even more forceful language to express his opposition,

“But we do need a President who can lead with moral authority and address moral issues with the sort of credibility that comes from a history of integrity. Newt has forfeited the ability to do that by his multiple betrayals and deceptions, and therefore the right to ask us to support him with election to our highest public office.”

We disagree.

Evangelicals can support Newt Gingrich in good conscience without descending to an “impoverishment of standards.”

We are not endorsing Gingrich as the best Republican alternative to President Obama.  Nor are we asking evangelicals to overlook his moral shortcomings. A man’s character matters and there are legitimate concerns about Gingrich’s. Chief among these concerns is his pride. One political observer we know has said, “If you want to understand Newt, watch Lawrence of Arabia.” Yikes. You could argue that his pattern of adulterous behavior extends not from aberrant sexual desire, but from pride.

We take issue with the notion that adultery disqualifies an individual to serve as our Commander in Chief.

To employ a standard of Christian witness as they Matt and Jerry do, the anti-Gingrich crowd must also end their support of Mitt Romney. As Martin Cothran aptly noted on his blog:

“Adultery is a violation of one of the Ten Commandments and is a mortal sin. On the other hand, I would rather not have a person who is a polytheist in the White House either. Mormonism is essentially polytheistic, a violation of another of the Ten Commandments, and also a mortal sin.”

He continues,

“But there is an important difference between the two scenarios above–the Gingriches and the Romneys. It is that the former are repentant, and the latter are not. And so I’m not clear on how unrepentant and continuing violation of the first commandment is less problematic than the repentant violation of the sixth commandment.”

From our position, Matthew and Jerry have taken themselves out of the 2012 presidential race altogether. And while Romney may not be the focus of this article, the flaws of Gingrich can be transposed onto Romney. Though Romney may not be a Christian, equal measures of rogue ambition and political flip-flops (on abortion and gay marriage, issues, we might add, that Gingrich has been consistent on) may likewise disqualify him on the same grounds of personal character flaws that are applied to Gingrich. If the quest for power has led to problematic personal decisions for Gingrich, then Romney’s vacillating political philosophy makes him culpable to the charge of self-serving pragmatism.

Further, Romney’s Mormonism is a damning sacrifice of evangelicalism’s doctrinal witness since Mormonism denies the Trinity. If Christian witness is the standard-bearer of potential support, Romney must be subtracted from evangelical consideration, as well. Otherwise, evangelicals are supporting an individual, who, though faithfully married, undermines the essence of true Christianity. From our perspective, enthusiastic evangelical support for Romney may, alternately, present us as “opportunistic idolaters.”

The result is that evangelicals can cede or weaken their moral and Christian witness on marriage by supporting Gingrich, or they can completely abdicate their Christian witness by supporting a non-Christian. It’s a lose-lose equation for the anti-Gingrich establishment.

We don’t believe Barack Obama’s potential re-election is an eschatological evil, nor a Gingrich election a celestial eon. It’s an imperfect election with imperfect candidates voted for by imperfect citizens. Evangelicals will not have sold out if they support Newt. They’ll simply be voting for an imperfect individual. We’ll only sacrifice our moral witness if we stake our moral witness on Gingrich’s example. We don’t.

Our understanding of Christian witness should in no way be dependent on the man in the Oval Office.  Whether it’s Jimmy Carter, George W. Bush, or Barack Obama we are mistaken if we hold to hope that our  president will lead the charge for Christendom. Presidents can only ruin our moral witness if we expect them to be our moral exemplar. We don’t.

Whether thrice-married or happily married for 44 years, casting one’s vote in favor of a candidate is not a carte blanche endorsement of the person as a whole, but the recognition that an individual’s governing philosophy aligns with your own. We prefer a candidate who acted wrongly (indeed, continues to act wrongly) than one who, at the very core of his being, believes wrongly about matters of public policy, such as Barack Obama.

We don’t place faith in the past of Newt Gingrich. Nor of his present. We don’t place faith in the faith of Newt Gingrich. We place measured sobriety in a Gingrich presidency that he’ll elect Supreme Court justices who see marriage as something written into Natural Law irrespective of his own abysmal experiences in upholding his own. We place measured sobriety in a Gingrich presidency that he’ll have the moral resolve to help end abortion. We place measured sobriety in a Gingrich presidency that he’ll reduce our national debt and put America on the path towards solvency.

We wonder whether such swift denouncements of Newt Gingrich are sprung from an inward desire to have a president who really accomplishes something for Christianity; someone who validates our cause and lends dignity to our truths. This is problematic. Evangelicalism, when given the opportunity to shine on the national stage, usually fails. And because cultural Christianity has failed so greatly in offering an enduring cultural witness (partly, because we’ve reduced our witness to politics), Newt Gingrich fits the profile for assuaging the wrath of a failed evangelicalism that yearns for another chance at stardom and legitimacy. Refusing to vote for Newt Gingirch represents an over-reaction to an evangelicalism that longs to be pristine.

 

This is the third in my intermittent series on Aquinas on the topic of scandal, which is covered in question 43 of the second part of the second part of his Summa Theologiae. In the first two posts I covered the main contours of his thinking on the issue. First, scandal is defined as “something less rightly said or done that occasions spiritual downfall.” Second, there are two aspects of scandal: active and passive. Active scandal occurs when a person sins (or even has a strong appearance of sinning) and thereby causes another to sin. Passive scandal occurs when a person is enticed to commit a sin after observing the actions of another—regardless of whether those actions are sinful. The upshot of this is that there can be cases of active without passive scandal, or passive without active scandal.

In the third article of his question on scandal, Thomas raises the question of whether scandal is a special sin. A strange question, until you understand what he means by “special.” He’s not asking whether it is unique. By asking whether scandal is a special sin, he’s asking whether it is a specific kind of sin—like murder, theft, gossip, which are all opposed to some specific kind of virtue or good. As he mentions in the first objection to his claim that scandal is a special sin, scandal is defined as something less rightly said or done, but that applies to every sin. So, it would seem that scandal is not a special sin.

Thomas’s first point is that the idea that scandal is a special sin is supported by scripture, specifically, Romans 14:15: “If, because of thy meat, thy brother be grieved, thou walkest not now according to charity.” Hence, scandal is specifically opposed to charity (love).

Beyond this point, however, Thomas makes distinctions (as is his wont). First, passive scandal is not a special sin, because you might fall into any kind of sin through the words or actions of others. Second, some kinds of active scandal are special. In particular, accidental active scandal is not a special sin because someone who commits such a sin does not intend to lead others astray. But direct active scandal is a special sin because a person intends to draw others into sin through his own sinful words or actions—or at least through words or actions have the appearance of sinfulness. To summarize: all scandal is sinful, but only direct active scandal is specially opposed to charity.

Here’s an example from everybody’s favorite recent topic: Newt Gingrich. Was (from what we can tell) Gingrich guilty of the sin of scandal in committing adultery with Callista? Clearly, Gingrich’s actions were “something less rightly done,” so they qualify as active scandal if they occasioned the spiritual downfall of someone else. And, to be clear, “occasion spiritual downfall” means “encourage toward sin.” Notice that scandal does not mean that Gingrich caused someone else to sin; it only means that his actions encouraged others toward any kind of sin (lust, adultery, covetousness, hatred, etc.). We can’t know whether anyone else was encouraged to sin by Gingrich’s actions, but I’d say that, with the number of people who know about it, it’s likely that someone was led to sin after hearing about Gingrich’s infidelity. Perhaps a warning to those in the limelight.

 

The discussion around here the past couple days has been top notch, the sort of civil and spirited roundabout that we ought to have more often.  Don’t let the length of the comments scare you off:  there’s good stuff down there, and none of it by me!

I don’t have too much more to say on this whole subject (really!), but remembered tonight one little bit of data that I think is significant for discerning how someone ought to vote when it comes to someone like Gingrich.

First, though, some prefatory remarks by my friend Francis Beckwith:

Adultery, of course, is one temptation. And I highly doubt that Gingrich would succumb to that temptation ever again. But the cluster of character traits that gave rise to these infidelities is a different story all together….

This is not to diminish or call into question Gingrich’s conversion. Quite the opposite. For, as the Catholic Catechism teaches, absolution of sins does not eradicate all the effects and consequences of those sins on the shaping of one’s character. This requires ongoing conversion, including detaching oneself from those things that may provide an occasion for sin.

The Catechism is a helpful guide on the matter, but there’s no reason to get hung up on the “Catholic” part of it.  It’s sound, prudential advice that’s easily recognizable as wise. We don’t let alcoholics near the liquor cabinet, after all, and we batten down the hatches on the internet for the porn addict.  Repentance, if it is anything, means the change of a life, and that means understanding the peculiar temptations a person has and going about things a different way.

I’m with Beckwith that Gingrich probably won’t have another affair.  Who can tell for sure, but let’s just play the odds.  Benefit of the doubt, and the like.  Beckwith puts the question well, though:  will seeking the Presidency deepen the “cluster of character traits” that were at the heart of his infidelities?

At a few points in my many conversations, I’ve made this argument in one form or another.  And the rejoinder is simple:  we don’t know what sort of character traits produced the infidelity, so we ought turn a blind eye while casting our secret ballots.   It’s a good response, as we don’t really know what caused the infidelities.  And while it may have been the pressures of public office, who can know for sure?  The missing premise here goes a long ways toward softening up the case, and making the vote for Gingrich seem a lot more plausible.

Except we know what was behind Gingrich’s affairs.  Gingrich has already told us.  We just forgot about it, because it was back in March of last year when no one was paying attention.  I quote:

“There’s no question at times of my life, partially driven by how passionately I felt about this country, that I worked far too hard and things happened in my life that were not appropriate.”

He goes on to talk about being a grandfather and having daughters that like him, which along with love of country and all his hard work are goods not to be frowned upon.  But his candid admission that the situation that he is now seeking to return to, with its immense responsibilities and work and its patriotic underpinnings, was near the heart of his infidelity is worth taking note of.

By his own admission, Gingrich was the sort of fellow for whom political power was personally destructive.  At least if we take him at his word, anyway.  History is full of examples of the type, though there’s no need to revel in it.  All men have limits that they reach, and grasping beyond them tends to prompt their lives to unravel and pain to ensue.  We are not all great men, and some of us not even very good men.  You may call this all judgmental:  I might call it personal experience, though my wife and friends would get to it first.   There is nothing more important, Peter Whimsey once put it, than knowing one’s own limits.

The question, of course, is whether knowing what we know about Gingrich’s life outside the context of grace whether we should vote to expand the power and influence he had because he now lives inside it.  I know of no final argument that could settle the discussion, no plank or reason that could finally persuade.

But to me, the case still seems to be strongly on the side of not voting for the fellow, if only for the reasons that we may be placing him in the path of temptation that he has already confessed he could not handle before.  The counsel of Scripture is not, at least as I recall, on the side of throwing ourselves in front of the train and praying that our newfound power of the Spirit will suffice.  ”Flee temptation” is something like a command, even if we sometimes need others to tell us when to run.

Of course, we haven’t even mentioned his desire to go to the moon, an intemperate fantasy built on imaginary buckets of non-existant cash.   We should, at some point, have the purely substantial discussion about policies and what would be best for America.  But until then, we ought to note all of Newt’s own words, and pause at the thought of doing unto him what he has already confessed originally contributed to his corruption.

 

One more round on the concerns about evangelicals and Gingrich.  Jerry L. Walls is a philosopher and the author of numerous books, the most recent of which was listed among Christianity Today’s top books of the year.  If you are interested in submitting a differing perspective, send me a note and I’ll consider it.  Equal time, and all that!  

Many conservative Christians are enthusiastically supporting Newt Gingrich for President, despite the fact that his personal lifestyle for most of his life has been sharply and starkly at odds with the values they profess to cherish. As one who cannot share this enthusiasm I want to articulate what I believe the issue is here, and what it is not. First, it is emphatically not a matter of whether God, or we, have forgiven Newt. I am in no position to judge his heart or the sincerity of his repentance or the status of his relationship with God, but I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that his repentance is sincere and that God has forgiven him. The issue is not forgiveness, but rather character, and forgiveness is not the same as proven character. I believe rapists, murderers, child molesters, persons who fail to report suspected molesters, slave traders, and so on can all be forgiven. I believe in John Newton’s “Amazing Grace” and I well know we all need it. But I doubt anyone would argue that a rapist, a murderer, or a child molester should be running for President.

Not all sins are the same, despite the pious insistence that they are. Yes, “sins are sins,” and all separate us from God but some cut deeper and do far more extensive damage to persons (starting with the persons who commit them), do far more to destroy relationships and undermine trust, and consequently require much more time and serious effort to repair.

Nor is the issue an unrealistic demand for perfection. No one has a perfect past, and few, if any have a perfect present. But it is a stunning impoverishment of standards to dismiss multiple lies, adulteries, and hypocrisies as mere foibles that fall just somewhere shy of perfection. While Newt was going hard after Clinton for his moral failures and campaigning on family values, he was engaged in an ongoing adulterous affair.

So again, am I suggesting we demand perfection of our candidates? Should we make an issue of every high school and college prank, indiscretion, drunken weekend, wild party, and so on? Of course not. But we are not talking here about adolescent behavior. We are talking about his behavior as a mature adult, while holding elected office.

The fact that Newt thinks his history of moral and ethical infidelity is irrelevant to his qualifications to be President, the fact that he can wax passionate with moral indignation against those who raise these issues, represents a wildly distorted sense of moral judgment and moral proportion. Ironically, he is the mirror image of the postmodern who rejects traditional morality, but knows exactly how to draw a huge ovation from an audience by attacking intolerance with passionate fervor.

King David fell into adultery and he repented and was forgiven. Notably, when confronted with his adultery, he did not turn on Nathan, and say, “Seriously, I am appalled you can be making an issue of the fact that I banged Bathsheba, given the enormous political and economic issues facing this country.” David was forgiven. But he never regained the moral credibility he previously had, and after this incident, his Kingdom began to unravel in various ways, as Nathan predicted. Indeed, it is surely no coincidence that we see this beginning to happen one chapter after Nathan’s confrontation with David, precisely in the form of his sons mimicking his worst behavior (2 Samuel 13). Amnon rapes his sister Tamar, and when David ignores the matter and does nothing about it, Tamar’s brother Absalom plots Amnon’s murder and successfully carries it out. Given David’s adultery and devious murder of Bathsheba’s husband Uriah, he was poorly situated to confront his sons with any sort of moral credibility or hold them accountable for doing the very same sort of things he had done. The King inevitably set a moral tone for the nation, whether for good or for ill. David eventually lost so much of his previous authority that his own son Absalom could successfully garner enough support to lead a rebellion and temporarily usurp the throne.

Again, I am not saying we should demand perfection of our leaders. If we insist on perfection or nothing, we will invariably get nothing. That is not my point. But we do need a President who can lead with moral authority and address moral issues with the sort of credibility that comes from a history of integrity. Newt has forfeited the ability to do that by his multiple betrayals and deceptions, and therefore the right to ask us to support him with election to our highest public office.

I believe Evangelicals and conservative Roman Catholics are making a huge long term error in supporting Newt despite these obvious liabilities. For many, the bottom line is that Obama must be defeated. They relish the image of Newt waxing him in a debate. Well, their error is the mirror image of those who elected Obama in the first place. A man who had very thin credentials and experience was elected four years ago, largely on the strength of soaring rhetoric and wildly unrealistic promises. Now those who want to see him defeated are willing to support a guy who is lacking in moral substance but who is a great debater and appears to have a good chance to win in November. Christians have been far too uncritical in supporting candidates who are willing to mouth support for their views or do an interview with Dobson or talk about God in a Baptist church, regardless of whether these candidates have shown by their actions any deep commitment to their values and convictions.

Many observers already believe conservative Christians are opportunistic hypocrites. Their support of Newt only confirms this impression and deprives them of any credibility if they ever want to make an issue of “traditional moral values” again. As an obvious example, opponents of gay marriage, a flashpoint conservative issue, will find themselves in a very awkward position if they expect Newt to address this issue with credibility. Indeed, supporters of gay marriage will understandably, and perhaps rightly, scorn conservative Christians who support Newt, and then turn around and try to make the case that homosexuality is a threat to the sanctity of marriage and traditional “family values.” Let me be clear. I believe homosexual behavior is condemned as sinful by scripture, and is morally wrong. But the Bible has far more to say about adultery than it does about homosexuality. Moreover, adultery is often used in the Bible as an illustration of idolatry, for it is a profound form of betrayal that deeply images our infidelity to God. For adultery is by definition a lie as well as a treacherous form of personal betrayal.

Christians who can wink at Newt’s multiple adulteries, exacerbated by the specter of his hypocritical attack on Clinton while doing so, should not be surprised when supporters of gay marriage see them as mimicking the same sort of laughable hypocrisy if they try to make a moral issue of gay marriage. They will understandably appear utterly arbitrary and unprincipled to their critics.

I am aware that for many conservative Christians, the foremost issue in this election is the economy, and the staggering national debt, an issue of great moral significance in its own right. I could not agree more that the national debt is an issue of urgent importance and that the economy desperately needs better management. But as urgent as these issues are, I do not believe they warrant the sort of compromise I believe conservative Christians are making in their support of Gingrich.

The bottom line for me: if Newt is the nominee, I will not be voting in November.

 

When I sat down to write Earthen Vessels, one of my hopes was to explore the body in its relationship to time and our own personal narratives.  That, like many of my hopes, was dashed upon the rocks as I set about the writing.  I couldn’t figure out the best way to jam it in, only one of the book’s many inadequacies.

But leave it to a friend, Father David Baumann, to write an absolutely lovely meditation that expresses it all quite better than I might have:

I can only imagine what Jesus’ body was like. It is easy to assume that his hands bore calluses and scars from carpentry, that his feet were hard from much walking, his muscles were corded, and his skin darkened by frequent exposure to the sun.

The skin of a young child is like a blank canvas. Life’s adventures are few at that age. Human skin is a medium on which is written the tales of one’s life. Take the thought deeply enough and one can become immersed in the meaning of Jesus’ incarnation—the word, literally translated, means “in the meat.”  God himself took our flesh, and had skin as we have, and it came to bear the marks of his divine life on earth. Go even farther, and one comes to resurrection—the destiny of the believer’s body on the far side of death. The resurrected body becomes perfect, yet surely will be recognizable through its direct connection with this life.

Once my skin was as flawless as that of the child I bathed, but now my scars, wrinkles, and blemishes tell the unique tale of my life, every mark on my body evidence of some adventure or escapade, even if just the adventure of living for more than six decades in the world. “My body shall rest in hope,” says Psalm 16:9b. My body, such as it is, also lives in hope. Jesus shared my human nature, and shares it still. In my love for him, I await the consummation in the greatest adventure of all.

 ”Human skin is a medium on which are written the tales of one’s life.”  I could not more perfectly put the point.
 

The maelstrom of criticism on yesterday’s post has all been good fun and even better learning, the sort of raucous and respectful comment threads that are simply a joy.

It’s got me thinking, though, of what we expect from a President.  I have been accused of expecting too much, of requiring a standard of perfection that I do not meet and thereby throwing the first stone upon a fellow who manifestly has not measured up.

Let’s set aside the practical questions of this election, practical questions which shall resolve themselves soon enough.  The issue at hand is how we think about such things, the presuppositions that we go into the voting booth with and whether those are in fact true.  We are well beyond the point of significantly altering the political landscape, but never beyond retooling ourselves.  And it is we, the amorphous and undefined public, who stand responsible for the media and political environments that has left us with a rather disappointing crop to pick from.

But to my point:  we live in an age where the only currency is authenticity, where the most zealous buffoon can earn the qualified dismissal that “at least he is sincere.”  It is earnestness that covers a multitude of sins.  If a candidacy doesn’t have it, as Mitt Romney clearly does not, then he will find himself on the outside.  Obama was said to have it, but I don’t think ever really did.  That was an overblown attachment predicated on an excellent personal narrative and unmitigated political hope.  The times have changed, and his connection with people has been frayed.

Yet authenticity’s triumph renders “hypocrisy” our greatest vice.  Nothing new that I’m arguing for here:  go read Andrew Potter’s The Authenticity Hoax.  I did this weekend, and stumbled over this:

A fixation on authenticity and a candidate’s character creates an opening for attack ads by the opposition.  But this in turn gives a candidate an incentive to lie about his past or hide his true character, which provides jobs for all the spin doctors and image consultants whom nobody likes.  In the end…it isn’t the spin doctors who have drained the authenticity from politics; rather, it is the desire for authenticity that provides opportunities for men who can help you fake it.  The only alternative is to vote only for candidates who are so upright, honest, and unimpeachably dull that you wouldn’t want them having supper with you, let alone running our country.

Quoting isn’t endorsing, and I’d hold on to the distinction between ‘authenticity’ and ‘character’ longer than Potter does.  But even he notes that in this environment, it’s social conservatives who are most at risk of being charged with hypocrisy:  after all, our platform is not laissez faire on questions of morals, and that makes the situation a might more precarious.

I’d also note that the authenticity fixation allows for the occasional person to break through without the image consultants, and to position themselves as outside the whole political game.  ”Authenticity contrarians,” if you will.  Or political hipsters.  And like any contrarians, their unique force is derivative, rather than (wait for it!) fundamental.  This is Newt’s gimmick:  position yourself as so authentic as to be outside the media’s grasp, and mediation’s grasp.  Run an “untraditional” campaign, and eschew the appearance of being subject to the media consultants who cost him his job.  For a more disciplined, careful candidate, the ruse might actually work.  But for someone like Gingrich, it’s a disaster in waiting.  The moment the messaging discipline has to come is the moment Newt’s energy will dry up.  We saw the beginnings of it in last night’s debate, I dare say, where Newt was nothing if not subdued.

And therein lies the problem with contrarianism, affable, political, or otherwise.  It can get you noticed, but once people start paying attention, what then shall you say?  And how shall you say it?  Newt’s only hope in a general election is to run against the media, and he had better hope they provide him an endless stream of reasons to denounce them.  Because in an authenticity environment, where being able to pose as the outsider is more valuable and effective than anything else, the moment he becomes an insider into the world of politics, he will invariably self-destruct.

What then, do we expect from our Presidents?  Conservatives might yearn for Calvin Coolidge’s incredible fiscal restraint, but there’s no room for his verbal thriftiness.  If ever a fellow might be a bore at dinner, I suspect it would be him.   But the virtues of discipline, restraint, frugality–the sorts of virtues that we might want in Congress and the White House–don’t play well in an age that has confused authenticity and character.  And so the fellows whose families are normal and whose steadiness seems unnerving are in danger of giving way to the most brash and boisterous candidate of them all.

 

Newt has, we are told, won the South Carolina primary on the backs of evangelicals.  I’ve been an  occasional defender of the demographic against its many critics, but this is all a bit much to take.

The surprise for everyone in this is how the rank hostility toward the “liberal media” has played into Newt’s rise.  The key moment, of course, is the absurd moment when Gingrich lectured John King for raising the minor matter of the accusation that he once asked for an open marriage.  If there was a moment when I have been more disappointed by Republicans, I cannot remember it.  Forget the accuracy of the story for a moment–these were, as has been pointed out once or twice, formerly legitimate inquiries to be made of public officials, as Gingrich knows better than most.

The critiques of all this from Douthat and Doug Wilson are worth reading in full, and my own position is generally of a piece with their respective readings.  Different lines of attack, but both score points.

Despite Newt providing us all with the occasion for the best satire of the political season so far (with gratitude to Ben Domenech), I can see exactly zero upside for evangelicals to support his candidacy.

Two friends emailed me not long after the South Carolina primary saying that they wouldn’t vote for the fellow.  Both under the age of thirty, both done with the charade.

In short, Newt’s serial monogamy and the possibility of the open marriage accusation undermines his legitimacy as a viable leader of those who claim to care about marriage.  There is a little charge known as “hypocrisy,” and the evangelicals foisting Newt upon us have opened themselves to it.  Practices are not incidental to our understanding of a thing:  they are a way of authenticating it, of manifesting its intelligibility and its truth.

The retort is that evangelicals affirm the possibility of forgiveness, and indeed we do.  Gingrich’s repentance for his failures seems genuine, and we have no real reason to question it.  But while salvation may be instantaneous, sanctification is something slower.  It can take a while to add virtue to our faith, particularly if we didn’t have much to begin with (as seems to be the case with Gingrich).  Rejoice, then, with the angels in heaven over the sinner who keeps repenting.  But maybe leave the keys to the nuclear weapons to someone else.

The unstated premise in all this is that what happens in private ought to be taken into consideration when evaluating a candidate.  Set aside the fact that Newt once championed the case:  is it not the same principle that stands beneath the conservative opposition to gay marriage?  It may be the case that Newt has reformed, but he ought to at least grant that the question is still legitimate.

The evangelical support for Gingrich, then, erodes and undermines their moral witness on the question of marriage, making it seem nothing more than platitudes that are conveniently tossed aside for convenience and charisma.

The evangelical writers raised a fuss over the religious right’s recent offering of support to Santorum, and perhaps justifiably so.  But such support is a welcome moment of political sanity (even if offered far too late to be effective, once again) in what is obviously a misguided evangelical political world.  The real tragedy is that no one in South Carolina listened to them.  The evangelical political witness might be more effective if they had.

If you’re scoring at home, then, Santorum’s in the race, and Ron Paul if you must (though you mustn’t).  I like Santorum and have said nice things about him in the past.  His willingness to engage in discussion sometimes leads him to cringeworthy quotes, and he lays on the foreign policy a bit strong.  And there’s the matter of getting in, which he might struggle with.

But he actually brings some substance to the table, a virtue that I would like to further in any way I can.   And if he’s still in it on Super Tuesday, I’ll go caucus for him here in Missouri.  If he’s not, I’ll toss in for Romney (who I will support in the general, should it come down to it), or simply throw away my vote as a silent matter of protest.  But I will not, can not, support Newt Gingrich.  And I’m a little embarrassed that it even has to be said.

Postscript:  My friends John Mark and Frank Beckwith are also worth reading.  I would interact with them more, except I’ve been warding off a cold all weekend and can’t quite bring it together.

 

I have, that I can remember, never marked my birthdays here at Mere-O.  For most of my online history, I have kept such moments private, as making much of them invariably seems to satisfy no one.

But today I enter my 30s, which for the purposes of Mere-O has struck me as having some significance.  After all, I made something of a mark on the world by penning an essay on the new evangelical phenomenon, a phenomenon that I stand squarely in the middle of.  That phenomenon is slowly becoming parents and will, like me, quickly be confronted by the reality that we are no longer the new evangelicals, but have been (inevitably) superseded by the “new new evangelicals.”  The charm and excuse of being a youngster can only get me so far, and has probably gone on too long.  Eventually, I shall have to figure out something real to say.  And so for the rest of us.

It is something of an opportunity to reflect on that brilliant question posed by Martin Bashir to Sean “Puff Daddy” Combs: “How does a hard-core, ganster rapper, hip-hop producer enter middle age?”  I’m not there yet, but it is coming quickly.  My hope is to enter it gracefully, to appreciate my youth as youth and nothing more, and to do all that I can to add to that long ladder of dwarves on giant shoulders.

And yet, gratitude:  oh the gratitude I feel.  I was planning on celebrating and saying thank you by giving away books.  I started with my book, and disliked the thought of another clumsy attempt at self-promotion.  I moved to Chesterton’s Orthodoxy, on grounds that if there is one book you should read in 2012, it’s probably that one (and the year after, and the next one too).  But frankly, the thought of giving away gifts doesn’t quite do the whole thing justice.  It lacks elegance when done online, and is too easily reduced to another marketing gimmick.  We’ll save such fun for other times.

My heart, though, genuinely overfloweth.  This blog has been a part of my life for nearly the past 8 years.  I could wax on nostalgically about our time, but nostalgia borders on being a sin.  Except about one’s wife, and she’s been a part of my life for nearly as long.  She has put up with long hours of writing, which when it comes down to it is a rather solitary task.  If there is a reason that I keep plodding along here at Mere-O, her fierce and faithful partisanship is it.  Once could not hope for a better interlocutor, or a more critical editor.

And the rest of it.  So many readers through the years, so many emails (probably too many emails, but that is another story), so many challenges and comments and kind words.  So many new friends, and still so many folks that I have yet to meet.  My twenties were a season of joy upon great joy, of blessing and goodness that is wholly undeserved.  The little community here at Mere-O made a remarkable reality possible:  the existence of a book, an imperfect offering that if I live long enough will be rewritten from the ground up, but a remarkable and stunning opportunity that many people do not get in their lifetime.

Existence is enough, and a miracle in itself:  I have, for whatever reason, been given the extraordinary privilege of finding a spot that fits me well.  Not the sort of thing you take for granted, given the rarity of its occurrence throughout the world.  And so I’ll double down on the work, and churn out another few thousand words (though not for this post);  if this writing is a vocation I am about, as I believe my twenties showed it to be, then the gratitude must take a different form, a form that is expressed within my life and my work.

Which is only to say, I only have words this time, words that hopefully resonate as deeply as I feel them:  thank you.  (The “you” is underspecified, as it should be, for the set includes both the God in whom we all live and move and those who happen to be reading.)   If anything, I hope that my thirties manifest my gratitude through my work:  more beautiful prose, more careful thinking, more frequent discussions, and more charitable interactions with those I come near.

Last year, I wrote a piece for Relevant Magazine that was as good, I think, as any I have yet written.  It is, perhaps, pedantic to quote oneself in one’s own post, but I’ll claim it as my only birthday privilege:

The preciousness of our lives does not depend upon whether we live them for an hour or a hundred years, but upon the one who gives that life to us. All our work is as transient as our days, and only if the Lord establishes it will it remain until the end. But it is enough for us to say, “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice, and be glad in it,” for all that the Lord makes is good. We should embrace G.K. Chesterton’s childlike wonder and take so much joy at the sun’s rising that we eagerly say, “Do it again!” But we will also work, not because we may die this day, but because our diligence is the grateful response to the recognition that our lives and time are not our own. And because as George MacDonald put it, “Those who are diligent will soon be cheerful.”

The meaning of our work is never certain, and will not be clear until the end of all things, and it all certainly feels empty and fruitless every now and then.  But the trudging looks like a wonder once on the other side, as the new day brings newer and brighter mercies.   The dawn is ever breaking, the darkness present but in retreat.  And so the work continues apace.  As Eliot puts the task before us:

A Church for all
and a job for each
Every man to his work.

The work shall be established, but not by our hands.   As one friend put it, this is not vanity.  Mere-O, marriage, my family and friends, the emails with readers and the writing of a book–it is not, nor will it be, in vain.  And for that, upon my thirtieth birthday, I am profoundly and genuinely grateful.

 

I was reading through the comments on the Christianity Today piece, which managed to be considerably better than “not terrible.”  In fact, they were rather interesting and, in some cases, constructive.

This one, by an “Anne S,” raises a particularly good point:

The cure to the overemphasis on the virtues and benefits of marriage, to the alienation of the unmarried (both those who want to be married, and those content unmarried), is not to go to the other side and overemphasize how awesome it is that the unmarried get to remind the unmarried that “the form of this world is passing away.” It sends the message to the unmarrieds that Jesus views them as a tool of witness and example for the marrieds, rather than humans with good and godly longing and desire of their own. And, it overlooks the true problem: that in fact, something is seriously broken in the church with regard to how we mate and marry, and how we relate to one another as a body (that we ARE all equally loved, used, and cared for by Jesus) — and until someone actually helps articulate THIS, we will continue to have problems, and unmarried people will continue to feel like an unneeded appendage in a body they should feel a part OF.

This is all very well put, and I wholeheartedly agree with most of it. And if I communicated that we ought to simply reduce people to their heuristic functions, I do apologize.

A few minor qualifications, though.  First, does–as Anne suggests–speaking of singleness as a witness to our eschatological life cause us to ignore the real problem, which is that “something is seriously broken in the church with regard to how we mate and marry, and how we relate to one another as a body”?  I don’t think so.

Let me put it this way:  is the marginalization of singles in the church a symptom or a cause of our troubled relational culture?  If you guessed “yes,” gold star with a smile.  These things have a way of reciprocally enforcing existing norms, and the more singles are marginalized the harder it will be for the problems we have to be corrected.  If it’s not at the root, it’s very much near it.  But the disease breeds more of itself, which makes a multi-faceted strategy really the only choice.  More on that someday, perhaps in a longer format.

At the same time, I understand the danger of reducing folks to only bearing witness to those who are married about the nature of the eschatological life.  Or at least, I would understand it if “bearing witness” were itself a reduction of someone’s intrinsic value and dignity.  And yet we are all witnesses, none of us whole or complete except when we have found our place within the church.  It goes both ways, after all:  the married folks remind us of the vindication of the created order.  It’s a peculiarly human phenomenon that in living out our lives we point beyond them to something else.

But let’s also specify the nature of the witness:  it’s life that’s on offer, and life abundantly.  We can emphasize the witness (and I did), or we can emphasize the life that it reveals.  I did not, and I wish I had.  The trick is not only showing that the form of this world is passing away, but to realize, as much as anyone on this side of it can, the life we might have in the world to come.  The thing must be goodness, and if the single life doesn’t look as such, then perhaps it’s not your calling.

But in a community where singleness is rarely, if ever, presented as one possible way into the fullness of joy (especially among those who seek leadership), then those who may be called might never hear it.  ”How can they hear without a preacher?” is true of more things than salvation.

I speak, in all this, of a singleness that is given, and that is received.  Not all who are single, or who have been, fit the category.  And I won’t go about minimizing the difficulty of a life lived where the desires of the heart are perpetually frustrated, or the very difficult practical questions of discerning these things.

But there is no escaping the singular fact that regardless of our status, the form of our lives is to point beyond ourselves, to remind each other of the reality of the revelation which we have heard, to be a people among whom the Word of God is living and active.  Otherwise, the married and the single risk saying to each other, “Go your way, for I have no need of you.”

 

 

Once more into the breach.

Last week was a rather busy one for me, full of all sorts of fun musings about evangelicals and sex.  In addition to the two parts of my review of Driscoll’s book, I also penned the following at Christianity Today:

In short, if there were more talk about sex elsewhere in the church, perhaps in the privacy of our communities and classrooms, we might get away with a good deal less of it from our pulpits and our publishing houses. Until then, the message will continue to get drowned out amidst the bombardment of infotainment that our evangelical world suffers from. In other words, if the message is not getting through, we might think about changing the messenger and method. Otherwise, the sensationalistic path of least resistance inevitably comes to the fore.

Just as importantly, learning how sexuality is a community concern gives a voice to those who are frequently ignored when the topic arises: those who are single, and especially singles who may be called to that state. It’s paradoxical, of course, to think that those who might never have sex have something to teach the married about it. But within the community of the church, single people have an indispensible role in reminding the married that for all its joys and pleasures, life without sex is not one of drudgery or disappointment. Rather, it contains within it the possibility of fruitful adventure. As Oliver O’Donovan wonderfully puts it, “[The New Testament church] conceived of marriage and singleness as alternative vocations, each a worthy form of life, the two together comprising the whole Christian witness to the nature of affectionate community. The one declared that God had vindicated the order of creation, the other pointed beyond to its eschatological transformation.”

And if that wasn’t enough (it wasn’t), I put together the following analysis for a very different audience at the Washington Post which developed some of the same themes that show up in the Driscoll review:

Yet for all our earnest attempts to speak the language of culture about sexuality, we evangelicals should be careful to not let go of the fundamental mystery that is at the heart of the sexual union. When St. Paul, a controversial figure himself when it comes to such things, writes to the Ephesians that “a man shall leave his father and mother, and shall hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh,” he follows it up in his next breath by reminding us that “this mystery is profound” (Ephesians 5:31-32). Sex, for Christians, is not less than an act for the purposes of physical pleasure, but it is more than that, much more. It is an image of the relationship we believe is at the heart of the universe, a relationship that is as mysterious as it is beautiful.

At the same time, the Bible does speak frankly and openly about human sexuality (including homosexuality, but that is a matter for a different time). Yet its most sustained teaching on the matter, the Song of Solomon, is cloaked in metaphor and allusions. The language of poetry is not that of prudes: rather, it is that of lovers, of those who know by delighting in the body that the anatomical descriptions fail to capture the enchantment. Poetry is its own fusion of modesty and eroticism: it includes the physical within itself, while going beyond it. Which, I’m told, is near how a metaphor works.

The Song helps us relearn what nearly every civilization before ours already knew: Sex is allegory, and as allegory it is metaphysics and theology and cosmology. For Christians, sexual difference and union is a type of Christ and the church: How could an erotic poem (and in the Bible!) be anything but allegory? From the Song we relearn that poetic metaphor does not add meaning to what is itself mere chemistry and physics. Nor is erotic poetry a euphemistic cover for Victorian embarrassment. Poetry elucidates the human truth of human sexuality, and it seems uniquely capable of doing so. Only as allegory does the Song have anything to teach us about sex. Only as allegory can the Song play its central role in healing our sexual imaginations.
 

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“Man is more himself, man is more manlike, when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial. Melancholy should be an innocent interlude, a tender and fugitive frame of mind; praise should be the permanent pulsation of the soul. Pessimism is at best an emotional half-holiday; joy is the uproarious labour by which all things live.” --G.K. Chesterton